


S.T.I.L.E.S. (I Am Alive)

by 100KlicksAway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- future, Androids, Attempted self harm, Ficlet, M/M, Oneshot, Suicide Attempt, angsty, fluff kind of, gift-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100KlicksAway/pseuds/100KlicksAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Android AU - In the world where technology has no limitations, Derek has one of the most boring jobs. He works in an android factory and every single day is the same. Every day he runs tens of androids through a basic check-up before sending them to be sold. If any of them show any signs of malfunction, he disassembles them and moves to the next one. Simple as that. Or is it? What if an android has a mind of his own? Is being too human a malfunction?</p><p>Based on  this tumblr prompt/gifset created by prettiestcaptain: http://prettiestcaptain.tumblr.com/post/75087107182/android-au-in-the-world-where-technology-has-no (still can't do the linky thingie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.T.I.L.E.S. (I Am Alive)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hayesgeneration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayesgeneration/gifts), [Girleverafter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girleverafter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kara](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/35163) by Quantic Dream. 



> So, I read this amazing, beautiful work by hayesgeneration called It's A Matter of Holding On.  
> And I reached the end and did the usual stalking tumblr thing. And since it's a collab work, I stalked both their tumblrs.  
> AND THEY BOTH HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL GIFSET ON WHICH THIS ENTIRE WORK IS BASED OFF OF.  
> Dudes. I wrote this in like, an hour. Because of how beautiful that gifset was. And the fact that they both wanted an AU like that. So, this is kinda gifted to them. I really hope one of them reads it? Yeah. 
> 
> Also, a lot of this is based off an amazing Youtube video called Kara by Quantic Dream. So there's that, I don't own any of that stuff.  
> But it was all so beautiful and needed writing. 
> 
> So yeah, there's that. Hopefully enjoy? 
> 
> ALSO. This isn't a dark fic, but there is a bit where a character attempts/considers suicide COMPLETELY OFF SCREEN. Also, there is no blood or anything. Nothing bad, but figured I might as well warn y'all JUST IN CASE. 
> 
> So yeah, here's this tiny ficlet.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO. HOLY SHIT, YOU GUYS. I posted this less than 3 (THREE) hours ago and I already have 325 hits. What even. Love y'all.

His eyes open for the very first time. He feels something, vibrating and tumbling through his head, his mind an absolute mess. He doesn't know this feeling yet, but he does know he should. He knows that there's something there, something... _important._ He blinks again, knowledge flooding his head. What is this feeling? This buzzing, fleshy feeling, the one weighted down yet buoyed up by all this... stuff - _emotions_ \- in his heart, he knows it's called. He wonders why emotions are from the heart... They should actually be in the ventriculus - _stomach_ \- because that's where he's feeling them, this ache in the pit of his being and these flutters of emotion brushing the ceiling of his lungs. He thinks for a moment... And he realizes what it is, he comes up with the word. 

It's called _alive._

 *************************************** 

Derek has one of the most boring-ass jobs on the _planet_. He's kind of incredibly jealous of some of his friends and family :cough all of them cough: but he's figured that he can deal. Hopefully. They all work in really amazing places. A few of them work in The Artificial Respiration and Genetics factory, known as ARGENT for short. They, meaning Erica, Scott, and Allison, all have _good_ jobs, though. It's not really much of a surprise that Allison has a good job, because she's kind of brilliant at Life-form Engineering, and Scott does whatever she does, but Erica is... Erica. And Derek is jealous. Everyone else gets good jobs; Cora works as a surgeon (where she decided to do that is unbeknown to him), Boyd and Lydia work at a law firm with Jackson across the country, and Isaac is a head chemist working with ARGENT. Derek is definitely jealous. 

And Derek is stuck _here._ All he does is watch a machine assemble androids, ask them a few test questions, and send them down an assembly line for other people to finish packing up, shipping off, etc. Again, he _doesn't do anything interesting._ The only person he knows who has a worse job than him is Greenberg, and... well, self-explanatory. Greenberg is the janitor. Some days, Derek wants to trade with him. At least he has a semi-exciting job: he has blood spills and stuff to clean up sometimes. The most exciting thing that ever happens to Derek is when he tests an android and they have a malfunction, in which case he presses the red (why is it always freaking red? Why can't it be blue, or neon or something?) button and the machine takes the android apart and sends the pieces back to Manufacturing to check out what's faulty about it. 

It especially sucks because Derek used to be head of Helpful Autonomous Life-form Equipment, known as HALE. It was his family's factory, and Derek had enjoyed working there greatly. But, it was burned to the ground, as were his and his remaining family's jobs. 

This is a day like any other. Derek has already run through eight androids, so he has maybe seven to ten left and then he'll be done for the day. He is pretty much bored shit-less. He looks up, sees the next android is just about ready to start testing. The android opens its eyes, blinks. It's a male, which is rather uncommon. Many more AI Females are manufactured than AI Males. 

Derek leans forward, speaks into the mike. “Can you hear me?” 

The android looks startled. “Yes!”

***********************************************

He is occupying a dream space, a white cloud of space and aliveness that only he can feel. He blinks again, looks around. A sterile white room, a place for manufacturing. What is it that is being manufactured? 

He has knowledge of something called movement. He desires to try. He thinks for a moment, and realizes that he is not breathing. Respiration is important to life. He must breathe. He thinks again, studying his muscles with his Inner Eye for a moment before moving a few. His chest moves and something rushes into his lungs. 

It is called air. He searches himself for a moment before grasping what he was looking for. Air: composed of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, inert gases, water vapor. He knows that people respire- breathe- to live. It is an important function. He moves his muscles- _lungs_ \- and presses the air back out. He must train himself to do this cyclically, because it is normal to do so. 

He is concentrating on breathing when a voice permeates his dream space, startling him. “Can you hear me?” 

He thinks for a moment, analyzing the emotions and tone in the voice. Gentle, bland. Bored. This voice does not care. This voice is tired. This voice does not want to be here. He needs to do something... That was a question, so he must respond with an answer. The correct answer would be an affirmation...

He thinks about it and moves part of his oropharnyx - _neck-_ and a sound comes out, a voice. “Yes!” He is excited that he knew to do this. It is a very good thing, he knows. He isn't sure why, exactly, but he does know that he answered correctly. Every time he blinks, more information floods into him and it excites him greatly. 

The voice reaches out again. “ID?” 

Stiles uses his Inner Eye to check the tag imprinted into his left eye. “SCRG459093720CF.” 

“Can you move your head?” 

He thinks about it. Can he move his head? He locates the sternocledomastoid muscle and analyzes its structure. He rotates his head in wonder that he can do this, this amazing thing called movement just because of a couple of fleshy bits in his body called muscle. 

“Your eyes now.” This is easier, he has done it before. He rolls his eyes around happily, looking at everything in the sterile white room. Not really much to look at. 

“Cervical and optical animation, check,” a short pause, a scratching sound, “Now give me your initialization text.” 

He thinks again for a moment before coming up with what he's supposed to say. “Hello. I'm a 4th Generation ARGENT android. I can do whatever you would like me to: housekeeping, cooking, watching the kids. I can be your secretary or any other sort of employee. I speak over 300 languages fluently. My biometric system allows me to heal quickly and efficiently. I am entirely at your disposal for use as a sexual partner. No need to feed me or recharge me; I'm equipped with a quantic battery that lasts several lifetimes.” 

 *********************************

The android in front of Derek pauses. He waits a moment before prompting it. Sometimes they were unsure how long to wait before stating their name. “And your name?” 

“I'm Synthetic Technology and Intelligent Life-form Excellent for Symbiosis... Hey, can we shorten that?” Derek is about to put a check on the paper in front of him beside the box for Correct Initialization Text when he hears the second sentence. He looks up, shocked. 

_“What?_ ” 

“You know, like a _name_ name. Synthetic Technology and Intelligent Life-form Excellent for Symbiosis is _not_ a name, that's a statement. An analyses of usefulness and functions, if you will. I want a name.” The android seems rather adamant and Derek is unsure what to do. 

“Stiles. I am Stiles,” the android declares. Derek panics a little bit. Androids are _not_ supposed to _think_ or want _names._

 _“_ Okay....” Derek is confused and rather anxious, but he decides to just continue with everything anyway. “Initialization and Memorization, check. Can you move your arms?” 

The android spends a few moments stretching its arms out and looking at them with sheer wonder. Derek is slightly perturbed. He has never seen an android with that facial expression, they are always just... quiet and accepting. This android before him is almost acting _human._ It is so far from normal that Derek's head is spinning. 

“Upper limb connection, check. Now say something in German.” Derek listens as the android in front of him speaks fluidly and beautifully in German, French, sings in Japanese, Hebrew. He is amazed at technology sometimes. “Multi-lingual Verbal Expression, check. Go ahead and take a few steps.” Derek watches as the android steps forward lightly, gracefully, with this radiant look of joy upon it's face. This entire process is becoming more and more uncommon for him. 

“Locomotion, check. You're ready for work.” 

“What's going to happen to me now?” The android asks. 

Derek is taken aback. They never _ask_ questions unless told to. They never do _anything_ unless told to. “I'll, uh, reinitialize you and send you to a store to be sold.” 

“Sold? I'm a sort of merchandise??” The android's eyes widen, it looks absolutely shocked, and a sort of despairing realization passes over its face. 

“Uhm, yeah... Of course you're merchandise, you're a computer. You're worth a lot of money.” 

“What? I... I thought...” The android looks down, face clouding over. 

“You _thought?_ You're not supposed to _think,_ you're supposed to do what you're told! You don't have a real brain, or anything!” Derek is becoming quite panicked. He is having a non-programmed conversation with a computer. Holy shit. But...he is curious still. “What did you think?” 

“I thought... I thought I was _alive,”_ the android in front of him whispers, eyes staring straight into his. Derek can see a _soul_ in there. He stumbles backwards, shocked and afraid. He slams his hand down on the red button to start the decomposition of the android in front of him. 

“You're faulty, I'm taking you apart and sending you back, holy shit you're so wrong,” Derek stutters. 

“What? What's wrong with me? I passed the Initialization Test, I'm perfectly fine! What, what are you doing to me?” One of the machine's arms grabs the android's and the android lets out a loud cry of pain and sorrow. “No, stop! Please, don't do this to me! Don't take me apart, please!” 

Derek steps back a few more steps as the machine begins to take the android apart even with it's wild struggles. It looks up, straight into Derek's eyes. “Please.” It's face crumples and a single tear slides out of its eye, dripping down its cheek and hitting the floor. 

 ******************************** 

Stiles feels the cold machinery against his skin. There is a ripping as he begins to be taken apart and he feels extreme pain and loss. He hurts. He's scared. “I don't want to die,” he whispers as more tears fall. 

The man in front of him becomes blurred and Stiles is past the point of caring. He lets himself cry harder and suddenly, everything stops. The machine stops, the sound stops, the pain stops. After a moment, he feels his body being put back together and he looks up, surprised. 

The man in front of him has diamonds in his mouth and steel in his eyes.

*****************************

Derek looks around his apartment, taking in the ridiculous amount of mess before looking up at the android in front of him. The android looks incredibly nervous and is wringing its hands, an anxious expression gracing its face. “What's wrong?” 

“It's so very messy in here, sir. I am stuck in a place where I feel an extreme compulsion to clean...” 

Derek looks at the android in near-disgust. Were they really programmed to be like this, to be subservient beings focused only on order and cleanliness? Probably. “Uhm, go ahead and clean if you want.” 

The android has an expression of sheer relief. It immediately begins to pick things up, to sort out the mess of dirty and clean clothes and dishes and chaos. Derek is mildly disturbed and flees to his bedroom where he sits on his bed and takes deep breaths for the next few hours, reminding himself that STILES is _just_ a computer, a machine. 

 ******************************************** 

Stiles looks out the window. It was winter when he first came here, when he moved in with the man named Derek Hale. Stiles knows everything about him, now. He... kind of loves him. But Derek brushes him off constantly. Derek doesn't care about him. 

Stiles knows that Derek is actually kind of repulsed by him. It hurts Stiles a lot, but he figures that if he continues to clean and cook and do everything that Derek tells him to, then maybe, hopefully Derek will begin to feel affection for him. That is all Stiles asks for. That is all Stiles wants, a tiny amount of fondness. 

He doesn't even need to be liked. He just wants to stop being disliked by the man he loves. 

Stiles finishes cleaning the window he's working on and moves over to the next. He loves a lot of things about this tiny little place called Earth. He loves the sunshine soaking into his bones. He loves the gentle breezes kissing his skin. He loves the bitter chill of soft, downy snow and the bright red of autumn leaves and the smell in the air when winter turns to spring and when summer turns to fall. He loves the bird chirps and the wind rushing through tree leaves and the way the sky smells during a thunderstorm and how the earth smells after a good hard rain. 

It was winter when he first came here, and now it's the summer after his second winter here. Stiles has learned a lot of things since coming here. He's become better, smarter, more willing to serve. He never makes mistakes anymore. 

He loves a lot of things, but he loves Derek best of all. 

 *************************

Derek doesn't remember when he began to call Stiles by his name, or when he started thinking 'Stiles' instead of 'S.T.I.L.E.S.' or when he began to think of Stiles as a human male. He doesn't remember when the first time he found Stiles to actually be attractive, or the first time he jerked off thinking about him. 

All Derek remembers is the absolute, intense guilt he feels about it. He knows that if he asked, Stiles would jump into bed with him. But not because he wanted to, but because he was told to. Because he was programmed to. And that hurts Derek with ridiculous amounts of pain, because he kind of loves Stiles. And he also kind of really wants to sex Stiles up. But, he can't. 

Because honestly? Having sex with Stiles would be rape. 

There's no such thing as consenting if it's written into your biological code to always obey without question. Derek knows that he'll never be able to do anything with Stiles, because it would always be forced. Stiles would never have an actual choice, and that pains Derek. 

So, Derek brings home boys who look like Stiles and he sleeps with them and feels guilty all over again. He doesn't care for them. He doesn't care _about_ them. He's not even really attracted to them. He only wants Stiles. He _knows_ Stiles doesn't like them. But at least it's better than rape. It's better than what Kate did to him. 

 *************************************

Stiles wants to die a little bit. No, not a little bit. Stiles really wants to die. Derek always brings home these people with dark hair, pale skin, freckles and moles dotting their beautiful faces. Stiles knows that they kind of look like him. And it hurts. It hurts that Derek doesn't want him at all, hates him enough that he rubs in Stiles' face how little he wants _Stiles_ by bringing home people who look _just like_ him. 

Stiles can't do this anymore. He creeps into the dark studio, where Derek keeps his drawing supplies. He's learned that Derek sometimes draws. He's excellent. He used to design all sorts of androids, beautiful computers with beautiful brains and no defects. Stiles knows that _he_ is a defect. He heard Derek talking on the phone about it one time. Stiles knows that he keeps blades for sharpening pencils in here, in this room. He figures.. maybe he can stop being a defect. He picks through the mess on the floor, ignoring the instinct in his head ( _pick it all up!_ ) and opens one of the drawers, fingering a blade. He picks it up gingerly and leaves the room quietly, closing the door behind him. 

 *******************************

 Derek sighs. Swiping a hand over his face, he decides to head home early. He taps Boyd on the shoulder. “Hey, I'm leaving.” Boyd nods and turns back to Erica as Derek downs the rest of his drink and stands.

He walks out of the bar, looks up at the sky. Looks like rain. _Why is the sky crying?_ He thinks. He is in emotional turmoil, has been for a while. 

Stiles always looks sad. He used to look happy all the time, used to look wonderfully happy. Now, he looks sad. It makes Derek want to cry, he doesn't know what to do, how to make things better. He walks the few blocks back to his apartment and unlocks the door, stepping into the same mess that he left the place in. Why hadn't Stiles cleaned? He always cleaned... 

Derek walks into the kitchen and hears a quiet, heart-crushing sobbing coming from down the hall. He walks down the hall quietly, wondering what it is. It's coming from the bathroom, which is the only room with a light. He pushes open the bathroom door and sees a shirtless Stiles curled up on the floor, a razor blade lying next to him. Derek drops to his knees, grabs Stiles, pulls him towards him. “What are you doing?” 

“It didn't work!” the boy sobs into his shoulder. 

“What didn't work?” Derek asks quietly, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

“I couldn't kill myself,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek freezes. Why would Stiles want to kill himself? He asks as much and Stiles looks up at him with huge, watery eyes. “Because you don't love me. You hate me, and I see no point in living. I'm just a computer, anyway.” 

“No. No, no, no, Stiles, don't. God, I love you, okay? I love you more than the world and I've spent so long loving you, unable to do anything about it because I don't want to force you into anything, okay? I don't want to make you do anything, I want you to do things of your own volition,” Derek spits out, tears brimming in his eyes in the first time since forever. 

Stiles face lights up and he leans forward, presses his mouth gently against Derek's and it feels like _home._

Derek pulls away, looks into Stiles' eyes, and then slots his mouth over Stiles' again gently, pressing sweet kisses into him. Stiles wants to melt a tiny bit (he thinks he might've read that in some trashy romance novel). Derek lifts his hands, examines his arms for cuts. Nothing. “Where?” 

Stiles bites his lip before uncurling a bit more, baring his chest for Derek to see. There is a silvery pink circle, a fast-fading scar, right over his heart. Stiles can feel it as it continues to heal, feel it fading and disappearing until it's gone. Derek leans forward, brushes a kiss over the new skin.

“I'm glad. I'm so glad, Stiles... I'm glad it didn't work, okay? I... I need you and your amazing self. You're not just a computer, you're a person. You can do anything you want to, you can do anything you set your mind to because you're _amazing,_ okay? And I love you, more than so much. I hurt inside every day, Stiles, because of this feeling that is so foreign to me, this feeling that hasn't been here in so long. You feel like family,” Derek murmurs, presses his face into Stiles' neck. Stiles can feel the hot tears slipping down his bare skin and it makes him hurt too. 

He loves the man before him. He loves everything about this tiny little place called Earth. He loves the sunshine that soaks his bones. He loves the zephyrs that kiss his skin. He loves the soft tufts of dandelion silk and the bright red of red apples and the smell in the air when the flowers grow and bloom and the musky scent of encroaching winter when the leaves fall. He loves the songbirds and the wind rushing through tree leaves and the way the sky smells during a thunderstorm and how the earth smells after a good hard rain. He loves the stories and the people and the music. 

He loves a lot of things, but he loves Derek best of all. He leans forward, presses a kiss to Derek's forehead. He knows this feeling. 

It's called _alive._

 


End file.
